What would you know about love?
by Basscop69
Summary: "She hadn't wanted galaxies. (Just him). And now here they were, galaxies apart, still unable to tear themselves out of each other's heads." A Reylo one-shot, post-TLJ.


"Well, maybe I don't want you going out there by yourself!"

Rey blinked at the sudden heat in Poe's voice, at the look in his eye that she wasn't sure she understood. He could be hot-headed, she knew - brash and a little cocky. Leia had told her as much.

But this seemed to go beyond that. Why was the pilot so annoyed?

"Poe," she started uneasily.

"Just forget it." Poe shook his head in sheer frustration (but at _what_?) and spun away from her. "Maker. Forget it."

She stood there staring as the pilot disappeared. And anger and frustration welled in her too - but most of all, bewilderment. She didn't understand what she'd done.

And then there was an all too familiar rush, a drop, she sensed _him_. Just when she needed it least, just when she really didn't want -

 _You and the rebel pilot?_ It was low, sardonic. His mouth was a twist of amusement that didn't quite match his eyes. _Romantic._

She shut her own eyes. Like that did anything to block him out.

Like there was anything she could do to stop the familiar hum of consciousness, the buzz of his thoughts against hers. Like it stopped her noticing that he was whiter than usual, the scar slicing his face starker and his dark hair windswept. He smelt of metal and cool air - he'd been outside. Every inch of him burned as vivid and clear as ever.

And she could tell from the knowing gleam in his eye that she must be equally clear to him.

She tried to shove against him with her mind. (Tried not to think about what exactly he'd seen, what he'd meant by _romantic_ ).

"Get out of my head."

She felt him push back. Felt the familiar thrum of his power as it brushed against hers.

 _Believe me, I wish I could_. His lip was curled. _You think I want to see things like this? You're the one sending them down the bond._ She cringed internally at the thought of sending him _anything_ , let alone - well, whatever had just happened with Poe. _All I can feel is your confusion,_ he mused now. She could sense his curiousity, sense him probing. _Surprise._ His mouth quirked, his black eyes questioning. _You're confused. Why?_

She slammed, again, against his invasive presence as a flicker of embarrassment rushed through her.

"Stop trying to read my thoughts."

 _Then stop projecting them,_ he shot back.

It was enough to remind her of her training, to force her to take a deep breath so that she could rein her thoughts back in. Enough.

He was still studying her, though. _Don't tell me you don't understand why the pilot reacted like that?_

She stiffened. So he had seen everything. She could feel the taunt down the bond. But she stiffened because - what was he saying? _Romantic_. That couldn't be -

"I'm not telling you anything," she snapped. Was he right? And how could _he_ have seen it, of all people? He couldn't be right. "What would you know about this, anyway?" she demanded. "What would you know about-"

She faltered at the end. Just enough.

Just enough for him to press - _Love?_ It was almost a sneer, except for the darkness in his eyes. A brief flicker that didn't quite match his mouth. Again. And just for a split second, the word was something else between them - something that made her stomach clench and her chest ache in a way that had nothing at all to do with Poe Dameron. But then he lifted a shoulder, and it was gone. His face impassive again. _I know the look in a man's eye when he wants someone._ It was blunt. (And she forced herself not to wonder how he knew, because she already knew the route that probing into his past would lead her down). _Surely you do too._

She frowned. She knew the look in men's eyes when they wanted some _thing._ Money or food or a ship. Power. Information. But that hadn't been the look in Poe's eyes just now. Not quite. Truthfully, she wasn't sure she did know how men looked at women. It wasn't like anyone on Jakku had ever wasted time looking at nobody scavengers.

He was staring at her, brow furrowed. _You...no._ She realised then, too late, that she must have been projecting again. She tried to ram a shield back down between them as he shook his head. _You don't. You've never known anyone who wanted you._ Each word was a barb, plucked straight out of her head. _You don't understand how-_

"Stop it." She didn't need this, not now. The reminder that he saw her in all her pathetic loneliness. She felt clueless, and naive, and he could see it - see her - and it was humiliating. She wasn't sure if he was sneering anymore, and she wasn't sure if that was worse. She thought it might have been. "Just stop. I'm not in the mood."

She sensed the flicker of annoyance from him.

 _Well, neither was I. You interrupted me, remember?_

And there was an impatience, an irritability that clung to him from whatever he'd been doing before. She scanned his pale face before she could quite stop herself. Breathed in the scent of outside on his skin, like she could somehow discern from it where he was. He looked tired.

His gaze narrowed. _You need to get a better handle on your emotions._

That riled her, even though she knew it was true. Perhaps because it was true. But still - coming from him?

"You're one to talk," she growled. She could still feel his rage from the other night. The white hot fury that had jolted down the bond and snapped her awake. "Every time Hux does something to annoy you-"

His notsrils flared. _Now who needs to get out of my head?_

She wondered if Hux was responsible for his current mood. She could picture the general's hateful face now. The clipped voice and cold eyes and slicked hair. She'd never once seen Hux in real life - only through _his_ eyes. And even though she had every reason to hate the general herself, for who he was and what he'd done, she wasn't sure how much of her instinctive dislike - the prickle of loathing whenever she thought of the man - was really _his._

She shook her head _. "_ All I'm saying is I'm not the one who throws a tantrum every other day." Because she could feel it, every time. The rumble of his anger down the bond whenever something went wrong.

(She'd used to be able to feel other things, but lately it was only anger).

 _No_. He drew her back to him with his sneer. _Apparently you're too busy watching some idiot fall in love with you._

It was cruel and deliberate.

"He's not-"

 _Why does the thought make you recoil?_ He was studying her again, brow arched. She swallowed. _This pilot's a member of your precious resistance,_ he pointed out. _This is what you chose._ His eyes burned into hers through the bond. _What you want._

The words cut too close to the bone. And it wasn't _fair_ , to throw this in her face. To use it against her.

"And what did you choose?" she retaliated. "Hux?" The darkening of his brow and the anger down the bond, the relentless power - "Is this everything you wanted, Ben?"

(And the nights, as lonely as hers).

He visibly flinched at the name that had slipped out of her mouth.

(He was still Ben in some of his dreams, even now, and they both knew it).

It hung between them for a beat.

 _You know what I wanted._

His voice was low in her head, almost rough.

And she could see him again as she had all those months ago - in the flesh and not just in her head - in a red room filled with smoke and death, his dark eyes wide as he reached for her. _Please._ A tremble between them as he held out his hand. His seething power and _want,_ the desperation for her to see what he saw. _Please._

But that wasn't fair - because she'd begged him too. Wanted, just as much. Wanted and ached so much she'd found it hard to breathe. He'd torn her apart in that moment too.

"Yes," she whispered now. "So do you."

He'd made his own choice that night.

Something flickered in his eyes. Bitterness. _So we both disappointed each other_. He made a scoffing noise. _Is that how this ends? Every time?_

It was dismissive, but there was a raw edge underneath it. Was this how it ended? And some part of her screamed - even now - that it couldn't be, shouldn't be, not between them, not like this. _Please._

But he wouldn't back down.

And neither would she.

He shook his head. _It's getting boring._

She ignored the sting. "If it's so boring, then stop talking to me."

Because - why did they carry on these conversations? She could fight harder to block him out, refuse to respond to anything he said, ignore him.

But instead she let herself slip back in. Every time.

And so did he.

 _It's not like I have anyone else to talk to._

She had no doubt he'd meant it as an insult, but it made her wonder. Who else did he talk to? Certainly not Hux or any of the stormtroopers, but - she'd seen others. Figures swathed in black, figures that he didn't seem to reserve the same levels of loathing or disdain for.

And she'd heard the rumours.

"What about your knights?"

He'd stilled, at that. _Trying to do some reconnaissance? You're not subtle._

Finding out more about the Knights of Ren would have been useful - but she wasn't stupid enough to think he'd ever let anything tactical slip through their bond. She'd actually just asked because she was curious. Because, she realised too late - he was doing it again. She was doing it again. Getting drawn in, trying to eke more out of him, trying to wrap her head around him. Caring.

She shouldn't care who Kylo Ren had to speak to. She knew that. And it certainly shouldn't be her. And yet -

"Luke mentioned that you took a group of Jedi with you. When you left." She ignored the dangerous ripple of darkness from him at _Luke,_ at _Jedi._ She wasn't in the mood to tiptoe around him. Not now. (And for someone who'd screamed at her to let go of the past, he didn't seem any closer to it than she did).

 _I didn't take anyone. They chose to leave with me._

Not just mindless lackeys then, she thought. At least not in his eyes. She wondered if he realised how telling that admission was.

She was aware that she hadn't responded, that he was watching her now. Like he had just realised.

She watched him back, evenly. "Where are they now?" she murmured.

 _Why? Are you interested in joining them?_

Another jibe, but part of her wondered if it was still a question. If he was still asking. Because they'd walked away from each other that day - she'd shut the door of the Falcon in his face - but she knew deep down that she'd still ask him the same, again, if she thought there was any chance he'd respond.

She'd ask in a heartbeat.

Stupid.

She was stupid.

"I have no interest in joining a band of murderers."

He snorted. _Unless they call themselves the Resistance._

She rolled her eyes - but she didn't want to tread this ground again. It led nowhere, and they both knew it.

"There are six of them," she said instead. "Six knights."

She wasn't thinking about the rumours this time, or the snatches of information the Resistance had gleaned.

It was the vision.

Six figures swathed in black, advancing in the darkness.

And _him_ at the front.

The masked monster, the hiss of his unstable red lightsaber searing the night.

It had been in the vision when she'd first touched Luke's lightsaber. She hadn't known if it was past, present, or future. And she still wasn't sure - except that he didn't wear his mask now; she'd seen him destroy it. So what of the knights?

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He was studying her with that pucker in his brow that she knew meant he was trying to puzzle her out, meant he was unable to steal the answer from her thoughts - and it irked him.

 _Yes,_ he responded slowly. _There are six._

"Always?"

He shook his head. _There were seven that left with me. One...didn't make it._

She picked up on it. The fraction of hesitation. He was always so sure when he spoke to her, so convinced. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. At least not to her. In all their conversations, he'd never tried to mislead or keep the truth from her.

Which meant that the hesitation, now -

"Snoke?" she asked. "He killed one of them." But he flinched, and she realised - "No. Snoke...made _you_ kill one of them."

His grimace was a bitter twist. _Snoke always did like testing the loyalty of his followers._

Rey gazed at him, and she could see it written in the depths of his eyes. Guilt. Shame. And she really, really wished it didn't - but the pain in his gaze ripped at something in her own chest. As if in answer. An echo of the hurt.

"You blame yourself."

(She wasn't meant to feel compassion for him. Not any more).

And she saw it - the harsh fragment of his memory - as it flashed through the bond before he could stop it. In truth, she wasn't sure if he'd projected or she'd probed.

The knight had rebelled. Snoke had given Kylo Ren the order. He'd made it quick and painless, and the knight had crumpled in an instant. Crumpled along with any kinsmanship, respect, loyalty between them.

 _I was stupid,_ he muttered. _Such a fool, for so long, following Snoke._ His black eyes were firey now. _Never again._

And it should have chilled her, the force coursing through that stare - but instead another thought hung between them.

Rey hadn't been one of his knights. She hadn't trained or turned with him. Instead she'd destroyed his plans, maimed his face, called him a monster.

But Snoke had commanded him to kill her too.

And she could remember it now, clear as day, lived and re-lived in dreams that she tried and failed to convince herself were nightmares.

The racking pain as Snoke held her in place, forced to her knees before _him,_ entirely at his mercy as he'd gazed down at her. Ben. His dark eyes had been fathomless, his face rigid; and tears had pricked at her own eyes as she'd said his name. Not at the thought that she would die, but that he would kill her. Ben. After everything she'd seen and _felt_ when their hands had touched in that stolen moment by the fire. The whorl of his finger against hers, the depth of his gaze in the firefight, the unspoken emotion in every line of his face, the husk of his voice. _You're not alone._ Ben Solo, the boy that still needed her to save him - Kylo Ren, the man that looked at her and _saw_ her - was going to kill her.

Because Snoke had given the order. Snoke, who he chose every time, who he'd murdered his own father for, who would kill her even if he didn't. Snoke could snap her in two with a flick of his wrist. He'd tossed her around the room like a rag doll, a piece of junk; and she'd understood, then, how Kylo must have felt every day, kneeling before the beast on the red throne. Worthless. Powerless. She wasn't enough to stop him or save him from Snoke - and as she'd knelt at his feet everything in her had screamed that it couldn't end like this, not now. And that had been why her voice broke on his name in that moment.

 _Ben._

"I know what I have to do."

He'd looked down at her as he'd said it - just at her. Like it was only the two of them in the room. Eyes locked. _It's just us now._ And she'd held his gaze, blocked out Snoke, felt the roiling conflict in him settle as he'd watched her.

He'd raised his saber as Snoke had crowed; and Rey could see the resolve in his eyes that spoke of death as she refused to look away from him - and then the rush of a saber and the snap, so violent that it threw her to the floor. Hard enough to wind her. Hard enough that she wondered for a moment, stunned, if she was dead, because all the tension had left her body.

But no.

The tension was gone because -

She turned in time to the top half of Snoke's body topple to the throne room floor. Sliced clean in half by the dazzling blue lightsaber that still blazed on the throne.

The lightsaber that Snoke had so carelessly left next to him, that she sensed Kylo summon now, a twitch of his hand by her head - and her own hand shot out to catch it.

The lightsaber has blazed true as she'd struggled to her feet, trembling, turning to face him.

He'd stared back down at her, and her heart had been in her throat with shock, fear, elation, gratitude, as she'd drank him in.

He'd chosen her.

He'd chosen himself.

He'd chosen _them_.

He'd been nearly breathless too. Both of them hardly daring believe what he'd just done - but she'd sensed it. The clarity. The certainty. And in that moment she'd felt it all into place too, and she'd been as sure as he was.

 _It's just us now_.

It had been just them who'd faced down Snoke's guards, moving as one in whirling death and destruction, stabbing and slicing and arching and protecting and - triumphing.

They'd defeated them all.

Together.

And then they'd faced each other again, drenched in death and sweat, her heart singing - and then they'd ruined it all. He'd ruined it with all his hunger and his thirst for more: _too much_ more.

She hadn't wanted galaxies.

(Just him).

And now here they were, galaxies apart, still unable to tear themselves out of each other's heads.

No, he'd never follow Snoke again. They'd both chosen each other over their masters that night. They'd chosen each other.

And then they hadn't.

And it was worse, she thought now - worse than if he'd never chosen her at all.

"I have to go," she forced out. "You need to leave."

But he didn't, of course. He was still there, watching her. Eyes fathomless, face rigid - and it _burned_ her, the urge to let herself slip into his head, to see if he was thinking of that moment in the throne room too, if -

No.

She choked it back. Shoved it away.

She was tired, and it wasn't fair.

"Leave me alone."

His lips pursed.

"Just go!"

She slammed her shields down, slammed against him. Out. She wanted him out.

"Leave!"

Finally, he dipped his head.

 _With pleasure._

She swallowed, loathing the sting in the back of her throat and the burn in her eyes as she felt his presence flicker, felt him start to withdraw. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself she felt nothing. She could get back to preparing for her trip now, try to fix whatever mess she'd got into with Poe.

 _It's not confusing, by the way. Or hard to understand._

The fragment of his last thought - her eyes snapped open, and she opened her mouth to snarl that she thought he was _leaving_ \- but something in his gaze, fleeting and unreadable, stopped her.

 _Why someone would want you._

And then he was gone.

 **A/N - So...I haven't written anything. In a very long time. And I'm aware that I have years old Gossip Girl fics that I never managed to finish. But I watched The Last Jedi, and I'm now slightly obsessed. Sorry.**


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